A Royal Affair

His dark eyes seek me out, Across the dance floor. He stands dressed in a tux, A black mask covering his eyes, A wicked curve to his lips, Passion like fire burning in his eyes, Begging for me.

His dark eyes seek me out,

Across the dance floor.

He stands dressed in a tux,

A black mask covering his eyes,

A wicked curve to his lips,

Passion like fire burning in his eyes,

Begging, pleading for my attention,

And yet I cannot oblige.

 

My Husband twirls my daughter on the dance floor,

Her smooth, ivory arms,

Insinuating her youth,

Her warm golden eyes look up into his icy blue,

And I smile simply at the love I have for them,

And yet as I look up again,

I find my lover across the room,

His passionate eyes burning with anger,

For he had caught me watching my family,

With all the pride a mother and wife could have.

 

My lover strides across the room and down a hall,

I quickly follow him,

Knowing that his anger could be destructive,

If not calmed with the balm of our love.

 

He is not gentle,

As I stumble upon him,

His hands grab at me roughly,

Pulling me in,

Drawing me near,

I know what he wants,

And yet somehow I don’t revoke the idea,

I find love and warmth in his arms,

My masked crusader,

My dark knight,

He who is my husbands favoured,

And my lover in the cold, dark nights.

 

I don’t dare to stop him,

And I moan as he takes me,

In the empty room he had pulled me into.

As he bites and teases my skin with his lips,

I know what he means to say,

That I am his and I cannot be allowed to forget it,

But how could I possible forget the warmth of his love,

In my husband’s infertility?

 

It is rough and quick,

Only meant to last for one single moment in time,

We don’t have time to talk,

Or simply be,

There are matters at hand,

And he knows that I’m need else where,

As much as I know that we cannot be seen together.

 

The night draws to a close,

And he is gone before most,

My husband takes me later on in the night,

And yet all I can think of as his hands touch me,

Is of my lover,

Fleeing into the night.

 

~ * ~

 

It is years later,

Before I see my lover again,

I am cold, and grey and old.

And yet he is still young,

His passionate eyes shinning with joy,

His warmth everlasting,

He pulls me in,

Draws me in,

And promises never to let me go,

As I take my final breath.

Author's Note

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